A Small Operation
by wittyblather
Summary: A very quick one shot I did on how the Joker interacts with his minions.


"You've got to be kidding me. A kid and some woman? What does /he/ want with /them/?"

"You never know. They could be wealthy, or powerful."

"Sure. The kid goes to Gotham City Public School. I'm sure she's filthy rich. And I hear Arkham pays its psycho-keepers out the wazoo."

The man who spoke the sarcastic words soon found a gun held to his temple, its owner staring at him with more urgency than animosity. Two other men watched the scene with curious passiveness, desensitized to its horror by many, many previous experiences similar, if not identical, to the current situation. The four men- two sitting spectators and the two who had been conversing- were positioned around a small, square table laden with pictures and papers, some neatly typed, others written in barely recognizable hands. The goons had obviously been ordered to study up on their future victims, as confusing a command as it was. Why couldn't their boss order the pair's kidnapping or elimination while keeping his thugs in the dark? Did they pose some significant threat that they would have to know about ahead of time?

His voice a raspy whisper, the gunholder continued "You better shut up, man. You want _him_ to hear you disrespecting his plan?"

"_He_," The other henchman layed on heavy emphasis, mocking his potential assailant's fear, "doesn't scare me, unlike you three cowards. If I think that his plan is a half-baked mess with no reward for us-" The threatening thug cocked his gun, but the clicking noise did not block out the sound of someone clearing his throat.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." The voice, somewhat high-pitched for a man, interrupted. Its source soon stepped out of the shadows, revealing a clown-like man in a garish, but fairly faded outfit. He looked at the developing fight, a bit of a scolding look spreading across his made-up face. "Now, now. No need for violence." The Joker's tone was condescending as he tooked the pistol out of his minion's now shaking hands. "I'm not an unreasonable man. If Dopey over here has a problem with this, ah..." His tongue darted out between his lips as he searched for the right word, "venture, then I'll be more than happy to hear it." Spying an open chair, the criminal took hold of it, spun it around, and sat so that the usual back support was propping up his arms and chest. Once comfortable, he fixed "Dopey" with a stare, tilting his head slightly to mimic curiosity.

The thug seemed to be taken by shuddering, but after a few moments, he met his boss's gaze and answered "These...people." His hand gestured towards the pictures of the woman and the girl. "What do you want with them? Ransom?"

At the word 'ransom', the Joker was seized by a fit of laughter, exaggeratedly slapping his knees, as one would do for a particularly funny joke. His men looked on in fear, the more experienced ones recognizing the signs of an impending attack. Dopey's face, however, only mirrored intense confusion.

After a few breaths to calm himself down, the clown-faced man responded "If I wanted money, I'd go kidnap that Wayne guy. No, no, me and these girls have a bit of a...history, so to speak. A few wrongs we need to right, that Arkham one especially." A cheerful grin appeared on his face, though it seemed a tad too bright for the situation and seemed to mock more than reassure. "Is that enough 'detail' for you, Sherlock?" Now sensing everyone's anxiety himself, Dopey nodded his head, shaking somewhat again. "Good." Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie, the Joker looked to the majority of the group of men once more. "So, if there are no further questions, I believe it is time to begin." The words were longer and the sentence was more complicated and formal sounding than the man's usual speech, but by this time it was clear that he was acting as though he held an executive position at a business, perhaps to intimidate his followers even more. It seemed to have worked, for the men all scrambled for their clown disguises and hustled out the door, leaving the small, badly cared for apartment empty except for the Joker, who still sat on his chair.

Before the questioner, Dopey, could leave the room, however, the man called out for him to wait a second. He froze, hand fiercely gripping the doorknob, and slowly turned towards his boss. The Joker smiled once again, but this time made no effort to conceal his sadistic intent.

"I'm glad we had this little talk." With that, he threw a knife at his thug's chest, the blade lodging itself fairly deeply in the man's breast, where the heart was. The disgusting gurgling noises that he let out as his body went limp were muffled by the peals of insane laughter that only the Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker, could produce.


End file.
